


The four times -and many more- 007 “lost” the exploding pen and the one he didn’t

by FeelingsDusk



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-19
Updated: 2014-03-19
Packaged: 2018-01-16 07:31:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1337152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FeelingsDusk/pseuds/FeelingsDusk
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Q just knew he was going to regret giving 007 the damn exploding pen but he didn't expect this.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The four times -and many more- 007 “lost” the exploding pen and the one he didn’t

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in many years -almost 7 without writting- and in English to boot! I've never written in english and I've never written a JB fic either so constructive criticism and pointing out any typos or mistakes is wellcome. Thanks!

The four times -and many more- 007 “lost” the exploding pen and the one he didn’t.

"You lost it."

"Yes."

"After pestering me for a year for a damn exploding pen, you _lost_ it." 

Bond nodded looking almost amusedly at the Quartermaster’s raised eyebrow and crossed arms and leaned on the table right beside him, hands indolently in his pockets. "Without using it."

The agent nodded again and Q, irritated, pressed his lips and left in a huff.

"I’ll need another…"

A door slammed shut right ahead and Bond allowed himself a chuckle. The minions looked at each other confusedly and shrugged.

.................

"Again."

"Yes."

"So let me get this straight, 007. You lost the pen in a scuffle so you had to somehow transform my very much a work of art laptop into a timed bomb using the radio and your bullet's gunpowder, losing in the process my much needed data, so you had to infiltrate the enemy’s base again in a stun that ended with you destroying the motorbike we provided as an escape means. Am I correct or did I leave anything out?"

"That’s much it, Q." Bond answered cockily and the minions winced at the very much audible grind of the Quartermaster’s teeth. "So, about another pen…"

Q turned around abruptly, marching to his office and cutting him mid sentence. He fought with the door furiously for a minute or so before remembering it was locked and, when he finally could, he slammed it making several gadgets tremble on the selves.

...................

"Damn it to hell, 007! Again?!"

"Yes."

"Let’s recapitulate, shall we?"

Minions started discreetly relocating to the far end of the room. One of them, who had been a pickpocket before MI6 when he was a street kid, snatched Q’s keys from his pocket without him noticing and wisely opened his office’s door, leaving the keys inside without entering.

"By all means, go ahead."

"You lost the pen in a fight getting information in an Irish mafia bar, so you had to use your radio –again- and the sonic bomb watch to blow up the invisible Aston Martin in front of the Turkish embassy so the target would leave the premises and then you put your phone in his pocket to track him -which you wouldn’t have had to do if you hadn’t blown the radio-, losing that same phone when he shot it when he noticed."

"Actually," minions started to make aborting signals behind Q’s back frantically, "I put the little C4 patch you gave me on the phone before slipping it into his pocket and then I shot the phone when he noticed me and was about to shoot me. Also," one minion actually dived for cover under a table when Q turned around to march to his office, "I may have damaged the bike - really, Q? A mountain bike to escape as plan B? That was petty vengeance for the lost pens…- on my way back…"

A door slammed ahead and minions went back to their original places.

.......................

"I’m not going to give you another one, 007."

"You are being petty, Q."

"Petty? Petty?! I am being petty?! You have lost exactly twenty-seven pens, 007!!!"

"The circumstances…"

"I don’t care, 007!"

The entire laboratory was deserted. Every minion had known the day 007 was coming back on and the entrance guard had been kind enough to send a warning the moment he entered MI6 headquarters -they started doing it at the 6th lost pen or so because distracted minions meant a lot of explosions- so they had left hurriedly -evacuation procedure number 6, new procedure now included in the manual, code name Quarantine Jaundiced Bacterium or QJB for short- through the emergency door.

"Look, I had no choice but to blow the Aston Martin again…"

A door slammed and Bond fought a chuckle as minions started to trickle into the laboratory cautiously. He winked at Q’s head minion -P? R? He didn’t know- and left.

.................

That bastard, Bond! He had lost the pen again! And the coward hadn’t even had the decency to present himself in Q Branch so he could at least chew him out for it! Because, really, he was starting to have nightmares about those lost pens. So far nothing had hit the news about things inexplicably and suddenly blowing up so he was counting his blessings, but… That bastard, what was he thinking?!

................

Q was marching through the streets with a godly given purpose. He had on him the last pen, as in the very last pen he was going to ever give to Bond if he lost it again. The man was leaving on a mission at first light and Q was going to deliver his gadgets personally with a speech 007 was going to listen carefully to or else, because he hadn’t had his Earl Grey still and he could bite right then and there.

The man was the only known occupant of a nearly torn up building in the outskirts of London, Q was surprised to find. He supposed the agent didn’t really care about the state of it because, really, he was out 359 days out of the 365 of the year, but… well. Really not was he was expecting. He nodded a distracted greeting to a passerby before entering through the already opened lobby door. He went straight to the lift because he wasn’t in the mood to climb four flights of stairs and when he entered it the entire building seemed to groan, making Q shudder with the cold and humidity of the air. As he was leaving the lift a startled cat came running past him and he stepped back surprised. He looked to the end of the corridor bewildered, looking for what had frightened the animal but found nothing. Q shrugged and approached the flat’s entrance. He hacked the security system easily and opened the door to find himself with a gun right between his eyes.

 

"Q?" Bond asked confusedly only in his pajama pants and barefooted, and for a moment Q’s brain shut down, his eyes zeroed on the man’s abs. "Q?" he asked again, a saucy expression slowly creeping into his face.

"Yes?" he answered dreamily before his brain caught up. "Yes!" he straightened his back and schooled his expression in an effort to both look somewhat professional and cover his slip but he could tell he was failing miserably by the look on the man’s face. "We need to talk, 007."

"Do go on," the agent said, pulling him into the apartment and, after closing the door, leaning on it indolently.

Damn him. Q swallowed nervously, steadfastly avoiding looking bellow the man’s chin.

Q was about to start speaking when he spotted Bond’s suit’s jacket on a chair nearby and behind that, on the table, twenty or so very familiar pens.

"Took you long enough." Bond was saying as Q approached the table with an incredulous expression on his face. "I thought you would have caught on what I was doing and had come more or less by the eight or tenth pen." He added that almost as a second thought but decidedly amused.

"You…"

"Yes?" said the agent absently as he left his place by the door and approached him predatorily.

"You…!"

"Hm-hmm?" he began backing him into the table.

"I can’t even begin to… What were you thinking?!"

Bond cut him by grabbing him by the elbows, pressing him to this hard body and sweeping him into a passionate kiss. When Q finally gave in and linked his arms around his neck, he grabbed him by the hips, then lower, fondling his butt with relish, pressing him to his hardness, making him moan, and lifted him onto the table, finding home between his legs.

Click.

They opened their eyes abruptly at the sound, eyeing the pen incredulously not even cutting the kiss, and the next thing Q knew was that he was flying through the window, Bond somehow managing to cushion their fall and protecting him as the fourth floor blew up right beside and above them. Not a very big explosion, mind you, apart from the sound and a little bit –relatively- of smoke it was barely seen. Cover-up plans where running through Q’s head fast as lightning, it would be easy.

Then the fifth floor started giving up and not even five minutes later the entire building collapsed on itself.

......................

"Good work." M was saying from behind her desk and Q would have thought she was being sardonic if not for the satisfied smile –barely seen but there- gracing her features. "I don’t know how you found out the cartel had managed to locate your house," on the screen was the picture of the very man Q had greeted before entering the building, "but with the way you destroyed the building, using such a controlled explosion, we have had very little problem with the cover-up story, making it a structure failure. Even so, I’d prefer if you didn’t drag Q into your next scheme, 007."

"Without Q the result would have been drastically different." Bond deadpanned and the younger man had to bite his cheek desperately to keep his expression schooled.

"Even so, don’t. I have enough paperwork as it is. You don’t seem too damaged," she added looking critically at their mere scratches, "so if that is all" she cued in, making a dismissive motion with her hand, her attention already on other matters.

They waited until they left MI6 headquarters and they were in Q’s favored coffee shop, seating in the most secluded spot they could find. Finally, after he had had a sip of Earl Grey, Q dared to ask what was on his mind.

"Did you know they were…?"

"I had no idea."

They broke into laughter, earning more stares that the shoot on their clothes had already garnered. James scooted over and slid an arm around his waist as he signaled the waitress for a refill and Q leaned into him.

"I’m still not going to give you more pens."

"Oh, come on!"

**Author's Note:**

> So that's it, I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
